A few months ago there was a flurry of excitement amongst journalists. The proof copies - bound, early-release editions of a book - of Taffy Brodesser-Akner’s new novel Long Island Compromise were circulating. Some lucky souls had a copy. The rest of us badly wanted one. I wanted one like other people want Taylor Swift tickets.
Taffy Brodesser-Akner is, of course, the author of Fleishman Is In Trouble, the 2019 novel that blew everyone away with its immediacy, accuracy, its total disregard of fiction-writing rules. This was a new and vital, crazy, vibrant, ALIVE talent and fuck all a’yous. I remember reading it, mouth agape. I kept on having to put the book aside and looking at the ceiling in sheer shock at the brilliance of what I was reading.
But then.
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